In the Darkness
by little lying delilah
Summary: Erik has made a terrible mistake.


**_A/N: I do not own anything Phantom of the Opera related not even the DVD._**

Sobs racked my body as she slowly – painfully slowly – tried to edge herself away from me. She remained close to the ground, I wondered if it was physical pain or her humiliation that kept her from standing up on her two legs and walking away. Without thinking I reached for her. It was no more than a small movement – my hand didn't even cross half the distance that separated us, but she visibly flinched nonetheless. In all my wretched existence I had never sunk this low. I had murdered more innocent men than I wanted to think about, and had robbed and extorted even more. I wasn't sure if I had ever prided myself on the fact that I had never physically hurt a woman in all my existence, but I certainly no longer had that claim any longer. I had violated a defenseless girl, and worse it was the only person that I had ever cared about. She is the only one who, in my entire life I have ever loved so desperately that it hurts.

"Christine?" my voice didn't sound like my own. Her body froze, aside from the slight trembling that was present along the length of her back and shoulders. Once I was the one who protected her. Now she feared me, and with good reason. She needed protection from me. Once she looked up to me with admiration and wonder; I had been her angel. "Angel."

At this she started to cry. I hated the sound. I hated myself even more for being the cause of it. It wasn't the soft sounds of her gentle sobs that I was used to. They were harsh, and desperate – as if she couldn't breathe. Her tiny frame shuddered so greatly with each breath that it looked as if she might shatter. I crawled across to her, silently begging that she wouldn't try to pull away. I gather her in my arms, and carry her through her bedroom and to her bathroom. I need to be the one who fixes all of this, so that I can be her angel once more.

I vaguely notice she is shaking her head. No. No? Why Christine? Why won't you let me help you? I did this to you, it is therefore I should be the one to help you, fix you, and let you forget. We could pretend this never happened if you would only let me. She has gone silent, her eyes dull, and staring ahead. The crying has stopped, thankfully, yet I'm not sure if her current state is any improvement. Only her slightly shaking head gives any indication that she is a living person. Her eyes are so blank that she looks exactly as the doll I had lovingly created in her likeness. How she hated that doll! It frightened her. Now she was the doll. _A doll to do with whatever I pleased._ The thought ran through my mind before I could stop it. The idea was one that would have pleased me many months ago, before I had seen Christine's beautiful smile directed at me. No, I wanted more than just her body. I wanted her to want me in return.

I sat her down on the cold tiled floor. She was shivering, still trying to cover her abused body with the remains of her dress, which I had brutally ripped. I pulled a blanket out for her. She took it but didn't look at me, or give any indication that she knew someone was in the room with her. All my life I had just wished to be ignored, as it was better than the only reaction I had ever been given – looks or horror and disgust. But I couldn't stand to be ignored by _her._

I looked at her body for the first time, seeing blood that had begun to run down her thighs. I left her lying on the floor as I went in search of some cloth to clean her up. It seemed a pathetic attempt to fix the situation. I grabbed an old shirt of mine and tore it up before returning through her bedroom. I took a brief moment glance at my surroundings. Would I ever be able to watch her sleeping in here again? She wouldn't want to visit me ever again.

I sat down on her bed, contemplating. I needed her. I couldn't let her leave, knowing she would never willingly return. Would it be so bad if I were to just keep her here? I would always be able to help her and protect her if I were to keep her in my home. She would be happy with me again, in time. I would compose operas just for her ears, and her voice would only be heard by me. Maybe that was just the way things were meant to be. My face has ensured that I am not fit to live outside, above ground. I am not fit to live amongst other people. And Christine, in a way is the same, although it is no physical affliction that is the cause. Her soul is too delicate, I have seen from the many times she has fled ballet rehearsals crying over an insignificant thing. She was not meant for the cruelties of the human world. She was meant to hide like me. She was meant to hide _with me_ forever. I would never make her cry. At least, I would try not to ever make her cry again.

Forgetting the original task I had set myself in regard to helping Christine, I went and investigated all entrances to my home. I locked them all. The Opera Populaire would no longer have a Phantom. I would have no need to leave Christine ever. I had accumulated enough money in the twenty odd years I had been down here for us to live comfortably. If I abandoned the image of the Phantom, perhaps Christine would no longer fear me? I had after all many ways to make her obey me without having to use The Phantom to frighten her.

_But you are the Phantom. _

I am not the Phantom. It's not my true personality, is it? It was a façade put on to ensure the managers were scared enough to give me money. But that was all it was. I could be a good husband for Christine. Never before had I even dared to think those thoughts. But if I were all she had… She may eventually love me. Fear me, and love me. I had told her that fear can turn to love. She didn't disagree, did she?

I then began to investigate every passageway and room in my home, making sure there was no way for her to get out. I had to do this now, while she was helpless. Afterwards I would help her. I would send her to sleep, so she could forget for a time what had taken place. I would ensure she rested in a sleep where no nightmares could reach her. She would never have a nightmare again. I had enough laudanum to ensure that.

Eventually, my task was done. I headed back to the bathroom, seeing the door was shut. My hand went to the doorknob. It was locked, too.

"Christine?" I called softly, not wanting to frighten her. There was no reply. I knocked on the door. I didn't want to rush her, but I was growing impatient. Why wasn't she replying? Had she fallen asleep? I glanced back into her room, my eyes immediately seeing the pins that she used in her hair lying on her dresser table. I grabbed one, and immediately started working on the lock. It didn't take me very long for the lock to click open. The heavy door pushed open. My eyes calmly took in the scene before me. I would later understand that I was numb and in shock.

It was unfair for the both of us that the only time I would know the pleasure of Christine's body was when she was unwilling and terrified.

Christine was lying surrounded in her own blood. Shards of glass from the broken mirror were lying around her. How had I not heard her break the mirror? Even though it was just a small handheld one. Her wrists, which had been slashed many times, were now bruised. The rest of her body was deathly pale. There was no rise and fall of her chest, and as I put my fingers to her thin throat, I wasn't surprised to find no pulse. She had killed herself.

"Oh Christine," I sighed sadly. "Why couldn't you let me fix you?" I sat down and pulled her up onto my lap, cradling her head. The expression on her face was calm, yet a little bit sad. I brushed back some loose brown curls from her face. She was still warm. I noticed I still had my ripped shirt in my hand. I did the only thing I could think of at that moment, and began cleaning the drying blood off of her wrists. I bandaged her wrists up for her, and gently cleaned the blood that stained her thighs.

Her skin was now cooling. I rid her of the ugly torn dress that she had been wearing, not allowing my eyes to look at her nude body. I didn't deserve that. I dressed her in her white nightgown, and then carried her into her bedroom and tucked her into bed. She looked so peaceful.

"You look like you're merely sleeping, love." My voice cracked slightly at the words. How I wished she were. I tucked her bandaged arms under the quilt so nothing would give away the fact that this was a sleep she would never wake from. At least she wouldn't be having anymore nightmares. I kissed her forehead softly, and then retreated from her.

As I closed the door to her bedroom behind me, I realized that this was probably the only way that she would have ever stayed down here in my home with me forever.


End file.
